The thing about John Kynaston's blog roll is that shit happens to you so you have a drink. Then fortified by strong wine you write what you believe is an appropriate blogpost that conveys your pain. This piece of alcohol affected artistry then appears at the top of John's blogroll for all to read.

In the morning you decide your efforts of the previous evening were entirely self serving and indulgent so you scurry over to your computer, having woken up the best dressed man in bed, and delete your embarrassing blogpost with a contented sigh. How many people could have read it during the hours of darkness, you wonder? (I applied the same argument to a comment I made recently about a politician and got eight weeks in the cooler for my troubles).

Then you get phone calls and texts all day long enquiring about the likelihood of suicide because the fucking thing is still at the top of John's blogroll.

For those of you that are confused by the motivation behind said (now deleted) blogpost, I'm afraid I cannot say more due to my refusal to indulge myself again. But mainly I'll say no more because I'm not drunk.

Regardless of this little piece of shit, there are other little pieces of shit that may be conveyed by the medium of blog.

Take, for instance, Monday's session at the Battersea Caius Boxing Club where I coach the young, disaffected hoodies of SW11 in the art of pugilism. The aim is to create more socially aware and responsible individuals. Sometimes we produce socially aware and responsible individuals that can hit like a mule. It's the socially unaware and irresponsible individuals that can hit like a mule that provide ammunition for the anti-boxing lobby.

Anyway, it was as I was teaching one of these lads the art of defending oneself to a hook that I got dealt the little piece of shit that is conveyable by the medium of blog.

'You throw a hook and I'll place my gloved hand over the side of my face to block your hook. All the while ensuring my elbow and upper arm provide protection to my body,' I instructed. Then placed my right hand over my face and said 'Go on then.'

The little angel couldn't believe my offer. I stood there like an idiot with the right side of my head completely covered and he looked at me before smashing a right hook into the completely unguarded left side of my face.

BANG

'Thanks for that,' I said, as my eye began to swell.

Anyway, this particular individual is usually a good boy and understands fully the meaning behind the statement I made when he turned up at the club:

'This is a hard sport for hard people.'

I could do with a bit more smashing about at the moment so I've decided to take up my place in the Hell on the Humber Bridge race on Saturday night. I'm required to run back and forth over the Humber Bridge between the hours of 19:00 and 07:00.

At the end of that I may wish someone was smashing me in the face.

p.s If you haven't worked it out this blogpost is designed purely to obliterate my deleted one from the blogroll.